


The Perfect Words

by sonicmekhanlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Caring Sherlock, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:59:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicmekhanlock/pseuds/sonicmekhanlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock needs to find the perfect way to tell John that he loves him, but it doesn't go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Words

_This is ridiculous_ , thought Sherlock as he stared at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. He stood stark naked except for a loosely-hanging towel around his hips, his hands clenching the sides of the small porcelain white sink while leaning his full weight on it. He bared his teeth slightly in frustration at the situation that he was in, but it was of no use. He had been in this situation for weeks now, and he was no closer to knowing how he would tell John Watson that he loved him.

It felt like he had so much to express and so little time to do so. It would take more than a lifetime to really show John the depth of his feelings, and a simple I Love You out of the blue just wasn’t enough. No, Sherlock had to figure out a way to tell John in a sort of meaningful way…

Except he couldn’t find the perfect way how.

“John Watson, you are the only one in the world that really takes the time to know me…”

His voice petered off, growing quieter and quieter as it ended. It just felt absolutely ridiculous to be speaking to himself in the mirror. He straightened and grabbed his dark blue bathrobe and shrugged it on, removing the towel in the process. He tied it tightly while whispering,

“You’ve saved my life so many times, and I can remember every single time. You’ll go so far to protect me… I can always trust you’ll be there.” He looked back at his reflection, his familiar cerulean eyes staring back unflinching. “My John, I can always count on you.”

He stepped out from the bathroom and looked towards the living room, straining to hear if John had come home while he had been occupied. When he didn’t hear a sound, he strode to his room and shut the door softly behind him, keeping his hand on the handle.

_What do couples say in this situation? You are my infinity, or some sort of sappy impossible thing like that. Useless, a lie that everyone tells each other in order to prolong the feeling of happiness and love._

Sherlock groaned in frustration and let go of the handle, briskly walking to his dresser to take out some clothes to wear. As he dressed, his thoughts continued to whirl around.

“John, you are like the sun in an otherwise blank sky filled with faraway stars. You’re so close, before meeting you my life was like the night, and when you shot that cabbie it was like dawn in my life. So familiar and yet so fascinating, a part of my life that I take for granted so often…”

He continued speaking softly, tugging on his trousers, feeling the comfortable silken smoothness that only expensive clothing could create. His hushed tones fell to silence, absorbing the meaningful words like a sponge.

Throughout the whole day, Sherlock spoke to himself. He spoke while playing the violin, he spoke while he conducted an experiment using eyeballs and milk, almost non-stop unless if he paused to shake his head and change his train of thought. The enigma of explaining exactly how much he loved and cared for John was really starting to bother him. It distracted him so much that he messed up one of the samples and threw it down on the table in frustration.

It was around four in the afternoon when Sherlock vaguely processed the sounds of the front door opening and closing, indicting John’s arrival home. He was so deep in his thoughts, standing in front of the mirror gazing blankly at his reflection, that he didn’t hear what John said at first.

“Hmm… What?”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Sherlock, still distracted by his dilemma, turned slightly to face John and answered exactly what was on his mind.

“I love you, John. I need to find the perfect way to tell you, but nothing works!”

When he had finished talking, Sherlock came back to focus on his surroundings and heard only shocked silence. He analyzed the last few seconds in his mind and realized in horror what he had just done. His eyes widened in his reflection, his heart pounding and cheeks flushing red in embarrassment. He turned and faced away from John, wondering what John must be feeling but desperately not wanting to look in case it wasn’t what he wanted.

He stopped in front of the window, looking out at the curb below. He heard John setting down 2 bags of groceries and walk to him, pausing behind Sherlock. Sherlock blinked quickly, mildly scared that his expression hadn’t been enough, or worse, hadn’t been welcome. He almost jumped when he felt strong hands settle on his hips and heard the rustle of John’s trousers as he stood up on tiptoe and leant closer.

“I love you, too.” He whispered in Sherlock’s ear, and he shuddered in relief, not realizing how much tension had been in his body until those words had been spoken. He turned and peered down at his lover, who beamed up at him with warm stormy grey eyes. Sherlock leant down, uncertain still, and softly pressed his lips to John’s, closing his eyes and just breathing in the scent of antiseptic from the clinic, spices from Tesco and utterly familiar, earthy _John_.

John pulled away first, grinning. “Just those words alone are perfect in their way, you don’t need to explain any more because I understand.”

_John understands._

Sherlock couldn’t help but lean down and kiss John again, overcome with emotion that he felt like his heart would burst. He backed his head away after a minute but stayed close, leaning his forehead against John’s.

“I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me, to try and explain it to you.”

John blinked, then closed his eyes and hummed softly, pressing closer and wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s waist. Sherlock turned his head and laid it on John’s head, closing his eyes as well.

“It can wait, we have the rest of our lives, Sherlock.”

Sherlock made a sound of agreement, and John squeezed tighter. They stayed like that for an hour, maybe more, maybe less, but Sherlock didn’t care. All he cared about was the man in his arms and the sheer size of his love for the impossible man who shot the cabbie and stole his heart all those months ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, this time I have 2 guinea pigs! Thank you to Sammy and Celina for reading it, you're both stars.
> 
> For those who are following A Path That Must Be Taken, I'm sorry I havent updated in a long time. I've been busy and very sick with a head cold and its at a very difficult part for me (why oh why did I need to write Sherlock and Irene together), but I promise I will finish that fic.


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